Take Me Out to the Ballgame
by Pointless Things
Summary: Modern AU: Two pairs of friends go to a Cubs-Sox game. Will sparks fly or is the hatred between these crosstown rivals too much? T for language. COMPLETE


Just a little bit of fun before I update Mercy!

There was also an idea about a pairing that I **LOVED**, so I took that and kinda ran away with it…

For my baseball nemesis, Yankee Countess.

XP

x x x

"Oh, come on!"

"No, if it was a Pirates game, I would."

"What the harm in sitting in the bleachers?"

Gwen furrowed her eyebrows and tried to think of a convincing argument that would make Sybil stay in her father's cushy box seats.

"We don't have bleacher tickets. Not to mention, those awful Sox fans will be around us."

"I could walk into the locker room and no one would bat an eye. What makes you think they would stop me from going to the bleachers? And believe it or not, I don't hate the Sox as much as I hate the Cards."

"Then you're not a real Cubs fan."

Sybil rolled her eyes at her best friend.

"These games don't matter, not really anyways. They're not even in the NL. I'll start worrying about AL teams when we meet one in the World Series. Besides, division rivals are the ones to really hate. Well you know, except for the Pirates. Now, let's go! We've wasted enough time here. I want to watch the game from the bleachers. Gain a new perspective."

Sybil tugged on Gwen's arm and the redhead reluctantly followed her best friend out of the air-conditioned, free hot dog and beer, and overall comfortable box seats into the sweltering summer air.

"Sybil! I'm going to burn out there!"

o o o

She needed relief. The skies were clear today, leaving her to bake under the sun's rays. She stood up and looked around for her best friend. She was nowhere in sight. She plopped back down on the bleacher (aka a slab of cement that someone called "a seat") and crossed her arms in anger.

Her skin would match her hair if Sybil didn't come back soon.

A lone Sox fan plopped himself next to Gwen. She scrunched her nose in displeasure. Hardly anyone sat in the right field bleachers and it was still early so no one was around her, except for this…Sox fan (BLEH).

She groaned to herself. _'Why did he have to sit here of all places? Go somewhere else.'_

Gwen held her arms so tight to her body that her white and blue pinstriped jersey was pulled taught across her back.

"Are you alright?"

Gwen stared straight ahead, unsure if the Sox fan was talking to her. If he was, screw him.

"Are you alright?"

Gwen whirled her head around to address the bane of her existence. "I'm-"

Gwen's jaw dropped.

'_-so wrong about Sox fans. Huba huba!'_

The man sitting next to her was amazing. Absolutely amazing.

A scruffy beard and wavy back curls. Dark eyes. Deep voice with an accent like her own. _'He must be from the north,'_ she thought. Tall with a strong build. Her type of guy. The only thing wrong with him was the logo on the front of his shirt, black and white instead of her loyal blue.

What a shame. He's so handsome.

"-trying not to get burned. My friend is getting me sun block right now."

The man turned around and shuffled through the bag he brought with him. He fished out a bottle of SPF 70 sun block and reached it out for her to grab.

"Here you can use mine. I've got a few more in my bag."

"A few more?"

He turned around so she wouldn't see his face, but she saw that his ears were turning a bright shade of scarlet.

"My mate and I don't do well in the sun."

Gwen smiled at the stranger's kind gesture. He was soft spoken and she could tell he was shy. He turned his head to glance at her and blushed as he caught himself staring at her. The man sat back down and turned his head to look at the lush green of the outfield instead of the woman next to him.

"Thank you. I'm Gwen by the way."

He turned to look at her. She flashed a grin his way and a slow, bashful smile finally crossed his face.

"I'm Jon. Jon Snow."

o o o

"Is it too early to get a beer?"

Tom grabbed the two plastic cups from the beer vendor. He rolled his eyes, dismissing the comment some girl said behind him. Probably a stupid bleacher bum. What does she know? Cubs fans don't even go to Wrigley to watch the game. They go to get hammered and act like drunken assholes. Better start early I guess. Tom ground his teeth together and replied.

"Well I'm Irish, so it's never too early for a beer."

He turned around to throw more snark at the girl, but his brain turned to mush when he saw her.

Wild ebony curls pushed away from her face by a pair of aviator sunglasses. Blue eyes, like his, only with a tinge of gray instead of green. Full rosy lips turned up into a smirk. She was slender, but not too skinny. Her long legs were on display from the shorts she wore. She had impeccable posture even with the large bag on her right shoulder, like a dancer waiting in the wings. Her blue v-neck hung loosely on her shoulders and was tied at the hip, probably a size too large. There was a light sheen on her pale, yet lightly tanned, complexion due to the heat. Stunning.

She stepped in front of him to get to the vendor.

"S'cuse me. Sorry. Hi Freddy! You don't happen to have two lemon freezes do you? Gwen and I are burning out there."

"Course I do."

The young vendor reached into the cooler and pulled out two ice cold treats. He handed it to her, not grabbing the wad of cash that was being handed to him.

"On me."

The young woman smiled at the vendor and stuffed the cash into his shirt pocket.

"You're so sweet. Say hi to Reed for me when you see her."

Tom watched as she waved goodbye and walked away from the vendor, lemon freezes in one hand, bag in the other. He would probably never see her again. He tried to step towards her to catch up with her, but his feet wouldn't move. He shook his head in frustration as she was walking further and further from him.

'_Come on Tom. What are you waiting for? Just go.'_

He snapped out of his daze and started after her, beer sloshing up the sides of the cup and spilling onto his hands.

"Hey. Hey!"

. . .

Sybil turned around.

It was the Sox fan from before. He jogged towards her, beer spilling all over. What? Did he come to sass her again? All she wanted do was make small talk. Away-team fans were usually always courteous and engaged in friendly banter about baseball, well all the non-drunk fans. Not Mr. Well-I'm-Irish-and-I-can't-be-bothered-with-talkin g-to-a-Cubs-fan. Didn't have to be so rude. Cards fans are nicer than him. Sheesh.

As a courtesy to the stranger, she stopped to wait for him. She probably dropped something and he was just returning it to her.

Oh, how very nice of him.

He finally caught up with her, a little out of breath. Sybil expected him to hand something to her, but he stood there, staring at her, wide-eyed and panting lightly. She raised her eyebrows at him. Surely he didn't call out to her so he could stare at her.

"Did I drop something?"

He looked around, somewhat confused and rattled by her question. Sure, the tone in her voice was somewhat rude, but it was deserved.

"No, I just…Sorry about…" He gestured backwards with his head since his hands were full. "…that."

She smiled politely at him. At least he was trying to apologize.

"It's fine."

Sybil was about to turn around to head to the bleachers when his voice stopped her.

"No, really. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Sybil's heart went out to the poor guy. Sure he was rude to her when she was by Freddy, but she was being rude now by not sincerely accepting his apology. A truce was in order.

"Really, it's okay."

They stood there for a few more awkward moments before he spoke again.

"So…are you sitting here at left field?"

"No, I'm going all the way down to right. You?"

"Right field as well."

Sybil tapped her fingers on her lemon freezes, expecting him to say goodbye or at least carry the conversation further instead of silently staring at her.

After a brief moment, he snapped out of his daze and held out his beers for her to take

"Here. Hold these. I'll take those."

The stranger took her sorbet from her hands as made his way to the concession stand. Sybil followed him, wanting her cold treat back.

"As an apology for my terrible attitude before, I'll buy you helmet nachos."

"N-"

"Before you say no, let me just say that if you don't want them, I'll gladly eat them myself."

She smiled, truly smiled at his kind gesture.

"If you let me pay for half, then it's a deal."

The pair made their way to the counter to order. Sybil stood beside him, back turned to concession stand, her rump leaning on the edge of the counter. She set the beers on the counter and fished though her purse for a $10 bill. When Sybil found one, she handed it off to the stranger who took it without a fight. She grabbed the beers in her hand and decided to take a look at him.

He wasn't a bad looking man. To be honest with herself, he was quite handsome. Devastatingly handsome actually. So handsome, in fact, that if he were an actor, she would watch ever one of his movies and download pictures of him on her phone and stare at them all day, gushing about how handsome he was. She eyed him up and down.

Worn out running shoes. Runner. Good height. Maybe 5'10" or 11". Brown hair. Good hair. Hair that I'd like to run my hand through. Broad shoulders and I can sort of see chest muscles. Is that a little chest hair poking out? Nice arms. Not bulky, just balanced. A plump arse, not bad. Great hands. Strong jaw. A wonderful profile. His eyes, blue. A really great blue. Let's see what else. Irish. He's Irish. Love that accent.

"Yeah, she's with me."

She came back from her examination of Mr. Irish to find him staring back at her. Her breathing quickened, as did her pulse. She felt her face grow hot. Sybil felt on the spot and was unsure of what to do next. Luckily, Sharon, the woman working the register, broke the moment.

"I didn't know he was with you Sybil. He's a looker. That's on the house. Here you two lovebirds go. Enjoy."

Tom looked back at Sharon as she winked at him and went off to help another customer without taking the money.

"No, I didn't mean- We're not- Wait, I didn't pay yet."

Not wanting to cause a scene, Sybil lowered her voice.

"Just put it in the tip jar."

"What?"

"Put the money in the tip jar and leave."

The man did as he was told. He grabbed the helmet full of nachos in one hand and hold her lemon freezes in the other. She held his beers and the started the long walk from the left field bleachers to the right.

"So…Sybil, huh?"

He caught her name. She giggled and nudged his arm.

"So…Irish accent, huh?"

They shared a quiet laugh until Sybil decided enough was enough. It's been far too long without introducing each other.

"Sybil Crawley. Nice to meet you…"

She saw him smirk and give in.

"Tom Branson."

"…Tom. With an Irish accent."

"Nice to meet you too, Sybil with an English accent. I have to admit, hearing an English accent here is a bit weird."

She stopped walking. He stopped when she questioned him.

"Weird, why?"

"Hearing it is a bit odd considering this is 'shi-cah-go, ih-lin-noy' where people eat 'hawt daags' and watch 'dah beahrs' on 'Double-ya'GN. I'm on vacation and the last thing I expect to hear are strangers with English accents. It's like I'm back at work."

Sybil bit her lip. She was in a good mood and teasing him felt natural. She laughed and pointed to where they had just walked from.

"So do you want me to leave so you can feel like you're on vacation? Cause I can leave right now."

. . .

Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise. Two could play at this game. Tom started walking again.

"Hey! Where are you-"

"Fine then. I'll have your nachos and lemon…"

'_Shit. What are these called again?'_

"Freezes."

'_Thank you.'_

"…lemon freezes all to myself. Nom nom nom!"

Sybil fell in step with him and walked in front of him to stop him in his tracks.

"Do you want your beer back?"

'_It's a waste of beer…'_

"I am Irish so that would be a yes."

. . .

They started walking together once again and fell into conversation quickly. The walk didn't seem as long now.

"Well I'm originally from Yorkshire, but I live in London now. My papa has a summer lake house in Lake Forest, so I spend my summers in Chicago."

"Ahh, a posh English girl who spends her summers in the north shore. Very telling."

"Don't give me that look. What about you, Mr. Tom with an Irish accent?"

"Born and raised in Dublin. Moved to London a few years back for work. My cousin's wedding was last weekend, so I came to Chicago with one of my mates who knows her. We're staying at my aunt's home in-"

"Let me guess, Bridgeport?"

"Lucky guess."

"An educated guess."

They walked up to the right field bleacher usher checking tickets when he nodded at Sybil and let them through.

Tom and Sybil turned the corner and climbed up the stairs, to get onto the bleachers in the open air.

"So, are you some famous celebrity that I don't know about?"

"No. Why?"

"You have money to pay for everything, but everyone here lets it slide. You didn't pay for your lemon whatevers-"

"Freezes."

"Lemon freezes. We didn't pay for the nachos. You seem to know everyone and we got into the bleachers without showing our tickets. Who are you, really?"

Sybil stopped on the top landing and turned around to face him. They were finally out of the concourse and out on the top of the bleachers, historic Wrigley Field out on display for them to behold. Heaven built by bricks, steel, and cement, filled with dirt, grass, and ivy.

"My great-grandfather was a season ticket holder and our box is practically a family heirloom."

Tom's eyes widened in shock.

"Box? Christ."

Sybil shrugged.

"Baseball is in my blood. I'm half American, so it's half my national past time."

She stared out into the stands and out onto the field. The wind was blowing out, carrying the scent of beer, hot dogs, Chicago air and her into Tom's nose. Skies were blue and there was not a cloud in sight. A perfect day for baseball.

Sybil took a deep breath in of the Wrigley air and sighed.

"I love this. I love it all. The sights, the sounds, everything. The Cubs have such a storied and tragic history. And Wrigley Field is incredibly beautiful. I've been to U.S. Cellular Field-"

"Comiskey Park."

Sybil turned to Tom, gave him a smile, and continued.

"I'm sorry. I've been to _U.S. Cellular Field _and it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like Wrigley. This is home to me and I love it. I remember in 2005 when the Sox won the World Series, I was so jealous. Mama and Papa were visiting Grandmama in late October so I came with. I stayed up, but I couldn't watch the game. I listened to it on the radio instead. When the final out was made, I heard cheers and yelling across the street. Cars were honking their horns. I saw everyone in the street, crying, laughing, cheering, and hugging. I wanted to celebrate with the Sox fans. I wanted to go crazy and party in the streets. But I couldn't. I was so angry. The Cubs had finished 4th in the Central division and we weren't poised to make the playoffs anytime soon. The 2006 was even worse. We finished dead last. 2007 rolled around and I was surprised, worst to first. I thought it was going to be our year. 99 years without winning the World Series. We won the Central division that year. The playoffs came and went. We were swept by the Diamondbacks that year. Maybe next year I said."

She turned back to the field. Tom saw her complete loyalty and love for her beloved Cubs as she stared into baseball's greatest stage.

"The 2008 season was by far my favorite season. I really thought the 100-year drought would end that year. The Cubs always managed to get runs in even when it seemed impossible that season. We won the Central again. It was destiny. 100 years of patiently waiting would finally pay off. The Cubs were heavily favored to win the World Series that year. We had great pitching with solid defense and a potent offense. No one could touch us when we were at full stride. I crossed my fingers and prayed that the baseball gods would be merciful that year and let is win the World Series. They didn't hear me and the Cubs stumbled and fell. The Cubs were swept in the first round by LA. My dreams of a blue October were taken away leaving me and everyone who bleeds Cubby blue to say once again, maybe next year.

He looked at her but she wouldn't meet his gaze. She stood in awe of her surroundings, patiently waiting for something that felt like it was never going to come. Tom knew this was a deeply personal moment. Patiently waiting forever. Loyal until the end of time, even if the goal is never reached. Tom felt a connection to her. He hadn't waited as long as some Cubs fans did for a World Series trophy but he somehow knew the feeling of waiting for years for something he may or may not have.

Tom tried to gently coax her out of her trance-like state and cheer her up by talking to her.

"Hey, us Sox fans had to wait a long time too, 88 years."

"Not as long as us."

"True."

"The difference is, we still are."

Tom leaned back on the railing behind him. She was still clearly upset and he desperately wanted to put a smile back on her face.

She shared a baseball story with him. He would do the same,

Tom took a deep breath in and began.

"I was a Sox fan back in 2005, but I wasn't a **Sox** fan, not like my cousins. I didn't follow every game. I didn't live and die with every win and loss. I only watched and enjoyed baseball when I came to Chicago for vacation, that was about it."

Sybil blinked a few times and slowly turned to him, although Tom didn't notice. He was so wrapped up in that night.

"I was there when the Sox won it all. I was in Houston with my aunts, uncles and cousins for game four. They had an extra ticket so took me along with for the trip down. We sat high in the stands, up in the nosebleed seats where you can hardly see anything going on in the game and the ground is covered with peanut shells. It wasn't my first baseball game, but it was my first away game. It was exciting. It was unlike any baseball game I had been to before. I remember it was loud, really loud. So loud I couldn't even hear myself think. Freddy Garcia was amazing that night. Truly amazing. Pitched an unbelievable shutout but I thought the Astros were gonna score when the bases were loaded with two outs at the bottom of the sixth, but Freddy pitched his way out of trouble. Top of the eighth. Fucking hell. Jermaine Dye. RBI single. My family and I went crazy in the stands. We could taste that World Series trophy. It was within our grasp. The bottom of the eight had the Astros fans around us cheering and we were so worried. We pulled through though. No damage done after that wild pitch."

Sybil leaned in close to hear him. She was swept away in his memory along with him.

"I'll never forget this. We were all holding our breath. Bottom of the ninth, Bobby Jenks was on the mound. The Astros hit a ground ball to short. Uribe fielded it and threw it to first. Pauly made the last out and we erupted. We cheered and jumped up and down as we watched the Sox flood the field. The Astros fans booed but who cared? We won. And when that trophy came out, we were nearly in tears. The Sox did it. We finally did it."

Tom blinked back into reality and found himself face to face with Sybil Crawley. His heart beat faster and his palms started to sweat.

"What did it feel like?"

She searched his face, trying to find something, anything that would make her feel like he felt that night.

"Like…nothing I've ever felt before."

Sybil backed away and turned to face her Wrigley once more. Tom came up behind her. In an act of courage, he put his chin on her shoulder and looked out onto the field with her. His voice only a whisper, making sure that no one else heard him.

"The Cubs time will come and when it does, the wait would have been worth it."

Tom thought about kissing her on the cheek, but he thought against it. They had only met 15 minutes ago, but he felt like they had known each other for longer, much much longer.

He pulled away and stepped forward, missing the tickle of her hair on his neck and the feel of his cheek on hers, but he had a strong feeling this wouldn't be the last time he felt this.

"Come on. Let's enjoy this game."

She turned to face him and their eyes met, warm smiles on both faces.

"Tom?"

"Yeah Syb?"

"Thank you."

They made their way down to the row of bleachers just above the outfield wall with the home run basket directly in front of them. They laughed, joking that it was fate that they would have eventually met. Sybil swore she had left Gwen right at that exact spot and Tom saw Jon's bag alone next to that spot.

As they turned around to look for their friends, Tom and Sybil saw a couple making out and groping each other like a pair of teenagers at the top corner of the bleachers.

"JON!?"

"GWEN?!"

x x x

Lemon freezes: basically lemon sorbet

Helmet nachos: an adult sized baseball helmet full of nacho-y goodness

If there are any other weird Wrigley/baseball things, tell me so I can add it to this list.

I had to put in the pronunciation of Illinois. I heard a guy say "Ellen-noise" and I thought my ears would bleed.


End file.
